


Call It A Draw

by Kierkegarden



Category: Death Note (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Alcohol, Chess, Chess Metaphors, Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, Morality, Yotsuba Arc, Yotsuba!Light, lawlight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-30
Updated: 2017-09-30
Packaged: 2019-01-07 03:26:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12224775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kierkegarden/pseuds/Kierkegarden
Summary: Your bony knees press behind mine like interlocking gears and your strange little fake snores continue until I fall asleep to the hopeless realization: although each day we work together brings us closer, although we should be able to see through one another, we have still never had a conclusive match.





	Call It A Draw

It is already morning but you clearly haven’t been paying attention. At this point, the hum of the preset coffee maker has long slowed to an occasional lazy drip, I’m sure you’ll stop for a moment to get a cup, load it with an obscene amount of sweetener and resume but you haven’t moved. You’re crouched next to me, of course. How and where else would you be sitting? The handcuff on your wrist pulls a bit on mine, but it hasn’t bothered me yet.

 

I gaze over your shoulder as you move your Knight assuredly towards my side of the board, in its characteristic L.

 

_In one move, you’ll have a Check. I instinctively block._

 

“Tricky.”

 

_You counter. I pause._

 

“Ryuzaki, don’t you want some coffee? We’ve been awake for almost twenty hours.”

 

Your brow furrows as you bring your watch up into your line of vision, dragging my wrist away from the board with it, “Have we?” You confirm, “It seems we have. Tell me, Light, why are you concerned with a coffee break now that I seem to have the initiative? Are you trying to break my concentration?”

 

I laugh. That’s you, L, always ready to jump to suspicion of me. Even in a friendly game of chess.

 

“No, it’s really more for me. If I wasn’t handcuffed to you, I would just get myself a cup and you could stay here.”

 

You shrug, unblinkingly, almost dissapointed. The light pouring through the blinds paints your pale skin with stripes of dawn and shadow. It’s beautiful, and in a way, it’s surreal to be next to you all of the time. Sometimes, it feels as though we are friends instead of a suspect and an investigator. Or business partners. Whatever we are.

 

In a fluid motion, you rise and extend your free hand to me.

 

“Very well, on the condition that we finish the game before we get to work.”

 

_But I already have my next move in my head. It will just be a draw again, like it always it._

 

“Okay, Ryuzaki, just let me get some coffee first. I’m not used to such long nights.”

 

* * *

 

“Do you ever get the feeling that _you_ could be Kira?”

 

My question clearly catches you off guard, as your grip on the Pawn between your forefinger and thumb tightens and you lower your hand.

 

“Demonstrably impossible.”

 

I pray that my warm smile lightens the mood. “Of course. But I mean theoretically, in another universe where you had Kira’s power. What would you do with it?”

 

_The Pawn is down. I capture it with mine. Your Bishop captures him in rapid succession._

 

“Perhaps I would use it, or at least the threat of it against suspects,” you muse. It is early evening and the din of rush hour traffic outside can be heard faintly through the window. You reach for another cookie. You’re bluffing.

 

“Not even a small piece of you thinks you would use it the way he does?”

 

You chew pensively, gently holding your Bishop in the field. Your eyes stay on the board. “perhaps a small piece. What about you?”

 

“Ryuzaki, at this point, I don’t think it even matters what I say.”

 

_I slide my last Pawn forward. I can’t win this game because of that damned Bishop. You got me there._

 

Half expecting a victorious grin, my eyes meet yours. Instead, you are gazing at me intently, “I suppose it doesn’t matter. But I’m curious as to how you’ll answer.”

 

“Well, I guess a small piece of me thinks I would use that power to make the world a better place, but the larger piece of me knows that I couldn’t kill. At least not systematically like that.”

 

You sigh. “That’s exactly what I thought you’d say.”

 

Catlike, you stretch, reaching for the empty bowl of wafers before sullenly rising to get more from the kitchen. You pause, as if realizing that I’m still cuffed to you and gesture for me to follow.

 

“It seems like it’s a draw again anyway.”

 

_How irritating. Maybe some day one of us will get a Check Mate._

 

* * *

 

 

The dim blue-white glow of my laptop highlights the otherwise darkened living room. Fast asleep on the chair, Misa’s mouth is slightly agape, her deep breathing distractingly loud in the quiet darkness. We are reclined on the sofa, uncomfortably close with our cuffed wrists touching. The chess set is scattered across the coffee table, some pieces strewn across the floor in disarray.

 

You’re clearly awake lying behind me, face buried in the back of my t-shirt, pretending to be asleep. For someone so careful, one thing you cannot fake is snoring. Your scattered attempts are almost comical.

 

Sometimes I wonder if this is the real reason you keep us cuffed together still: to innocently press your body into mine in the night, to justify our closeness. You’ve confessed to me that you’ve rarely been able to call anyone your friend and mean it. Maybe we are friends - maybe we could have been friends; maybe we could have been more.

 

Maybe some part of you wants to prove my innocence as much as you want to prove my guilt. I wish to God that I could prove my innocence to you. I’d even prove my guilt to you if I could but nothing I say could matter. That’s the nature of being a suspect. That’s the nature of being a fake friend. What am I to you, L?

 

Maybe some day you’ll value me over your ego - you can give up this pointless battle. You can give in to me. I can give in to you. I could give you what you need, L. And you could admit to yourself that you’re in love with me.

 

Your bony knees press behind mine like interlocking gears and your strange little fake snores continue until I fall asleep to the hopeless realization: although each day we work together brings us closer, although we should be able to see through one another, we have still never had a conclusive match.

 

* * *

 

 

“I’m too sober for this!” Misa proclaims, throwing her head back in defeat. For the past hour, she has been hanging on my arms, above my head, throwing her hands around my neck, waiting and waiting for the thrilling conclusion.

 

It’s as if the greater number of games you and I play, the slower and more deliberate our moves become. Somebody has to win eventually. Somebody has to give. I suppose Misa has realized that so far, the only one giving is her.

 

“Isn’t a little early to be drinking?” I ask her, teasingly, as she attempts to pry the cork out of a wine bottle with her hands.

 

“Isn’t it a little early to be playing that boring game?” She gives up and saunters to the kitchen for the wine opener.

 

Our first pawns of the game have met in the middle of the board again. Your eyes glazed over in concentration, anticipating my next move.

 

Misa returns with three wine glasses.

 

“Sharing is caring!” she exclaims holding one out to each of us, “plus you wouldn’t let a pretty girl like me drink alone, would you, Light?”

 

I laugh, wrapping my free arm around her back as she sits on the edge of the sofa.

 

“I can’t argue with that.”

 

Your eyes challenge me, as if to say “ _can’t you_?”

 

“Evidently, Ryuzaki doesn’t approve.” I tease. Misa is already passing me an overfull glass, her shaky hands sloshing the deep red liquid precariously.

 

She pulls a pouty face. “Come on, Ryuzaki, lighten up! At least this way you and Light will be on an equal playing field.” She wiggles the wine glass at you, pleading.

 

You move your Knight into play and rock back and forth in your signature crouch. “Why not?”

 

_Why not? Could it be that you’re beginning to trust me? Or do you just want me to believe that?_

 

Of course, Misa just squeals excitedly, “I’m gonna get Ryuzaki druuuunk!”

 

* * *

 

 

It always seems to end like this. You and I in a draw and Misa’s quiet breathing. This time, however, we’ve gone through a wine bottle between the three of us and it’s only early evening. The chess game is long cast aside, as if we don’t need this symbol any longer.

 

A warm blush has settled across your pale skin and you’ve flung your body contentedly across the floor, your head in my lap. My own skin dewy with heat and tingling in alcohol-induced titillation, I lean back, trying to stay grounded, accidentally pulling your arm to rest above your head.

 

For a while we stay like this, intimate and sacred, a moment that has finally found a home in our heightened state of fervour. Finally, your eyes flutter closed.

 

“I want to trust you, Light.”

 

It’s the most vulnerable I’ve ever seen you. _Perhaps it’s an act. Perhaps you’re lying. Perhaps -_

 

“I want to trust you too.” I find myself saying.

 

You tilt yourself up slightly, bringing your knees towards your chest. Not quite crouching. Not quite thinking.

 

“If you are Kira, I could never forgive you for this moment. One moment in which I choose to trust you over me.”

 

You curl into me and nestle your head in my chest. I look down into your eyes, knowing it's no use to proclaim my innocence again. “It only has to be a moment. Tomorrow, everything can go back to normal and I can be your suspect again.”

 

Suddenly, your lips are touching mine and your hands pull me closer down towards you. Your touch is light and unsure and it occurs to me how inexperienced you probably are. Gently, I stroke the bottom of your chin towards the base of your hairline and lean into the kiss. You shudder pleasantly as we break apart, pushing your body closer to mine. I feel a distinct rigidness poking into my thigh.

 

“Mm,” you lick your lips at me, “you’re good.”

 

A pang of guilt strikes me. “You’re drunk.”

 

“Admittedly, a bit.” We laugh together like friends or lovers.

 

“Perhaps we’ll call it a draw again, until tomorrow then. I’m not going to do anything with you while you’re drunk..” I hold your warm body against mine. You crane your neck to look at me, perhaps to evaluate my motive or to get the final word.

 

“You’re a good person, Light. Maybe.”

 

“Maybe.” I agree.

 

_It’s no Check Mate but it will have to do._


End file.
